Necro
by Bohoburns
Summary: Charon x female Lone Wanderer. Dr. Leah James, former Vault 101 resident, is studying ghouls and the cause of ghoulification. A series of accounts of her in depth field research and dynamic with her employee lead to adventures while she tries to understand the condition as well as try to find a cure for it. Also, they bang. Rated M for Sex, Violence, Drugs, and Vulgarity.
1. Chapter 1

The little fire they started in that metal bin provided more light than she had needed. _Bloody Jesus. I can see everything._

His chest, the angry red and peachy tissue danced in luminosity of the amber firelight. All day she had been thirsty. And now the mirage was taunting her in full sight. _He's all mine. And he would do whatever I tell him to do. Only one way to find out if his 'contract' includes this kind of thing._ She uncrossed her arms and pushed off the desk. She stood up straight, pushing the nerves out of her worrying head.

"Charon." He stopped rummaging through his supplies, every tendon in smooth motion as he straightened his back to face her. Expressionless cataracts looked at her.

"Yes?" The silence was getting stale. So she went for it.

"I order you to fuck me."

The wind rushed out of her as she felt herself flying. Backwards, forced up into the wall of that warehouse basement. Rotting plaster exploded from the impact and surrounded them in a cloud of dust. She fought the impulse to cough as she felt his rough dry mouth on hers. _Lips._ _He has no lips._ But that was fine. She liked the dry papery tissue that remained. He smelled better than the rest of Underworld, that was a plus. Like rust and leather; blood and death.

His mouth was firm and assertive, like he was. Exploring all the curves of her jaw and neck she tilted her head back and sighed as her fingers dug into the rippled tendons of his back. Patches of skin, some still flaking and some still attached brought complexity to her senses. He growled as he tore angrily at her vest, trying to muscle the straps of her armor off of her. It hurt a little more than she liked, the material digging into her flesh. "Stop." He froze, suddenly standing straight with arms to his side. He looked at her with the hunger she finally confirmed she hadn't imagined. Now he was scowling, but obedient. Always obedient. "Don't give me that look. We're not stopping _this_." She easily unbuckled and dropped the more frustrating ensemble to the floor as she put her hand onto his chest. They both were breathing heavily, the anticipation a thrill she hadn't felt before. She was in her undershirt, compression bra soaked in her sweat and her still relatively sundeprived skin decorated in splotches of brown and gray dirt. Turning her focus back to him, she put her hands on his chest and enjoyed the inferno temperature that radiated off of him. He was hot. And his pulse exploded with every beat against her fingertips. "Continue."

He grabbed her by the waist and firmly lifted her up to his level. Mouths locked in battle while his rough large hands supported her backside she gasped and moaned while wrapping her legs around his hips. Grinding against that sweet spot, already so heated and solid, she brought her hands to his head. She was enjoying the last tufts of hair that remained and savoring the feeling of his teeth nipping at the skin of her neck. She found herself pushed onto the desk, the clatter of falling ammo rounds and shattering bottles added to the thirst as she clawed at his belt while keeping her mouth busy.

The audible ripping of her shirt made her laugh while the ghoul growled and pushed her bra up above her breasts. He pulled back to take in the sight of her bare chest; she was in the presence of a man who had not seen a naked woman in decades. She knew she didn't really empathized but she did sympathize. She let the loaded pause elapse while catching her breath, her lungs making her rib cage expand and contract at his benefit. But she was getting impatient. She had the need. "How long has it been, Charon? Tell me." She licked her lips and basked in the arrogance-no, drunk on the power-of her position over him. He was so much larger. So much stronger. And he was completely powerless to her.

"Longer than you've been alive, pipsqueak." He grabbed her throat and shoulder, pushing her back onto the cold table while he licked at her breasts hungrily. His breath and saliva were hot and wet, her nipples stiffening against his teasing teeth. His barking words and savage noises made her skin rise with goosebumps and she shivered as her pants were peeled to her ankles.

"Oh, God." His chin and jaw had coursed down to her lower stomach and to her underwear. Her legs were forced wide apart as he lowered himself to his knees and brought his tongue over the fabric of her panties. It was like the sensation of direct sunlight on bare skin down there and left her arching her back; panting.

"Not God. Only me." A hand squeezed a breast while the last fabric of her privacy was peeled away. And, to her regretful rumination, the typical flashbacks rushed through. _She was ten again. And Mr. Mack was dropping by to 'borrow Dad's baseball glove' while he was still in the clinic. Don't tell, little girl. Or you'll be sorry._ "Do you want me to continue?"

She jerked her head up as she returned to the present, realizing her hands had been balled in fists and her arms crossed in a defensive gesture. He was standing over her again, but with confusion and uncertainty. And insecurity. _Fuck_ , she knew what this looked like. Her legs weren't happily splayed apart like they were earlier and a tear had already snuck past her eye. It had trailed up to her temple as she lay there breathing heavily. But it wasn't because he was a ghoul, oh no. _He thinks that's where this is coming from_. She sat up and put her hands to his wrists, pulling them up to have his palms rest on her shoulders. He stood up straight, his waist at her eye level. "Yes. I'll tell you when I want you to stop." She kept her eyes locked on his while she pulled at the waistband of his pants. His height was perfect for this: her, perched on her pedestal and him, erect and on his feet with his hips at her shoulders. She worked her way until she found what she needed. Never breaking eye contact, never showing a sign of weakness, she kept her face tilted up to the man that was her responsibility now. And took care of him in the best of ways. Her lips took in his member and proceeded to move her head back and forth.

He hissed and cursed while fisting handfuls of her dirty hair and pushing and pulling her as she continued. Her throat felt raw, but it was a good kind of raw. The mood came back with a furious vengeance, her hands gripping his glutes until she slapped a skinless cheek firmly. He tasted of precum, salt, and what could only be compared to as raw mole rat meat. But that wouldn't phase her. She pushed his pelvis away, getting to her feet to wrap her hands around the back of his neck and pull him down to her. He had her pinned to that desk, every muscle like a heated machine that synchronized perfectly to have her trapped happily in its complexity of arms, chest, and legs. She saw red-all from the veins and the true nakedness of his anatomy.

His cock was pressed against her, the sultry flush down there having her closing her eyes and preparing for him. Everything about him was massive-and this was no exception. She appreciated his efforts to go slow. He was aware of their significant size difference, but the level of persistence in his pushing and prodding was purely animal. And for a brief second she doubted he would stop even if she had ordered him. The sting of him entering her was afresh and akin to what she remembered was her first time, but she was happier to have this giant inside of her than the boogeyman from her past. She kept her eyes tight while digging her nails into his upper arms as he grunted and pushed himself completely within her.

They weren't in a state of self awareness any longer. Him, the passionate and deprived warrior was having his reward with all the violent relish and ravenous rabidity she only fantasized about in her naughtier nights. She began to understand the level of danger of a feral as she tried to move with his onslaught thrusts into her. She was letting out gasped cries with every force, the sound of their bodies slapping against each other adding to the primal pleasure. "Charon. Yes."

That seemed to only intensify and vex him. He stopped, pulling out of her while she squeaked her protest. He pulled her legs closer to him, her shoulder blades the only support on their table and he flipped her over onto her stomach. Legs dangling over the side she felt his rugged hands pressed against her butt cheek and then he reentered her, pounding with a growl and erupted into an inhuman speed. She cried out as the sensation struck her in surprise. Carnal ecstasy spread down to her toes and she writhed as he continued his rhythm unphased. Pulling out to change position, he hoisted her up and sat on the table while lowering her back onto him. His fingers seemed uncertain but intent as they explored her and played until she responded appropriately. He kept the motions while she lifted herself up and down onto his manhood, happily riding him as he pulled at her nipples.

When she felt him come, she was a little surprised. _I guess I can add that bit of medical knowledge to the ghouls chapter, now._ She felt the familiar intense warmth spread inside of her, his seed a comforting feeling as he kept himself inside. He was panting, his husky gasps almost wheezy against the back of her head. "Tell me what you want." He kissed the crown of her head and ran his hands all over her torso. The nasal aperture of his skull scratched her skin as he continued to lick and mouth her neck. It tickled a little, returning those goosebumps that he seemed to enjoy rubbing.

She was feeling generous. And a little greedy. "I want you to do to me all the things you've wanted to do to a woman while you were stuck in that hellhole all those years." She could feel him pause, uncertain. He grew tense.

"If that is your wish..." He seemed hesitant, almost wary. He chose his words carefully. "It may not be what you want."

She bit her lip to that sentence, swallowing back the bloatflies in her stomach. His words enthralled her, to the point of being overwhelmed again. "Good."

He picked her up by her upper arms, lifting her with ease. He carried her to the dingy mattress in the corner and lowered her onto it. As he sank to his knees, he gazed into her face with that rough disgruntled expression and pushed her chest until she lay on her back and looked up at him. The ceiling was all black, and his face was more orange shadow than missing skin. Her blood was racing as he lowered his face to her. And kissed her lips, slowly and sensuously. Her eyelids drifted shut as he sank onto her, seemingly out of exhaustion. A little disappointed, but not dissatisfied, she made no protest. But then his arms wrapped around her. And he pulled her close to him. It confused her for a moment, and she lifted her head to look down at him startled. He looked back at her and put his hand to her cheek. "You are so beautiful." She blinked and chose to play along. She kissed him again, now as a sweet girl and not a ravenous succubus. She lowered her cheek to his chest, feeling his accelerated heartbeat gradually slow down. He trailed his finger up and down her shoulder, his loud breathing like a lullaby. And as they fell asleep he kept his arms around her carefully, in a tender way she had never experienced before.


	2. Chapter 2

She scratched her dusty dark hair while flashing a smile up at the giant in the corner. He looked... tired. Oh, he didn't slouch or have a frown on his face that gave away how tired he was. But the look in his eye, that cold numb stare and the growl that followed as she took in his entire being-it all reaked of exhaustion.

"Hi." She tried to choose her words carefully as she put her hands in her pockets. She noticed his reflexive eying her movement; the keen observer he seemed to be. She had noticed him eying her every time she entered the Ninth Circle. At first, she thought it was the typical check out of the newest smoothskin to visit Underworld. And that excited her. But when she never saw him outside of that dingy bar, she began to wonder.

Days of coming back, a hit of Jet, and the blatant return of his stares had her come with another observation...

He never moved from that corner. And that pissed her off, for reasons she didn't think too much about. She had some theories. But no confirmations yet. She was a stranger, still, in the community. She didn't call it a city-it was too small to be one. Not like Rivet City or Megaton. But it was large enough for her to be left alone. But tonight, she wanted him to know who she was. She wanted to know who he was.

"My name is-"

"Talk to Ahzrukhal." Monotonous. Gruff. She raised her eyebrow in response.

"Uh... okay. I have. I just-"

"No. Go talk to Ahzrukhal."

She let out a breath of disbelief. She couldn't help being a little offended, but she shrugged it off and went back to the bar. Whatever. Asshole. Sitting at the bar and making a point to have her back to the bouncer, she nodded at the skeezy ghoul that smiled his slimy mouth down at her.

"Well," he wheezed with his scratchy voice that made her wince. "Aren't you looking a little down, darling?"

She had become good at keeping her face still when she internally cringed. His smile was as poisonous as a radscorpion. Of course, he had those dead ghoulish eyes. Glazed. whitened from decay. But she could feel something worse about him. He was bad news.

But he had a good supply. She tilted her head to the side and smiled shyly at him. The pretty little smoothskin. The fresh young vault dweller. The act helped let people let their guard down with her. "Do you want to hear more about my problems?"

"Why, of course. Tell Uncle Ahzrukhal all about it." The drawl and the way he leaned over her was uncanny to a bad dream. The kind where sweaty old Mr. Mack would look down at her when she was younger. Cornered. "Don't tell your father, or you both won't stay here for long." She swallowed back the gag, returning to a familiar state of mind. She let her fingers graze his hand while keeping her smile flirty. Just play along. It's always easier if you just play along.

"I'll have a beer. And some more jet, please." His scratchy chuckle and the chink of brown glass on metal was a comforting sound. While the room temperature liquid rushing down her throat, it helped distract her from thinking too much. "I tried to talk to that guy in the corner. He's an asshole."

"Ah, I see you've become acquainted with my bouncer, Charon." The bartender eyed her carefully as he smirked. "He is under contract. I have ordered him not to speak unless spoken to. And to ensure any deep conversations are referred to myself."

"He can't speak?" She played with the jet inhaler. She'd wait until she was ready for bed to take it.

"Oh, don't mistake his silence for stupidity. That would be... unwise." Azrukhal hissed out a snicker through his rotting teeth. She could smell him across the bar. He smelled of shit and rot. "No, Charon was raised by an interesting group of mercenaries. They... well, they sort of brain washed him."

As he explained to her the details of Charon's contract, the girl's eyes widened slightly. She tried to keep her game face on, but it was hard to maintain her composure.

"How much?" She softly asked, ready to barter.

Charon watched the narrow frame of the girl as she drank and schmoozed with his most hated enemy. What was a young little smoothskin like her doing in a place like this? He didn't like it. He didn't want to see what would happen to her. He wasn't going to kid himself into thinking she was going to walk out of there and live happily ever after. No, not when she was buying jet off of Azrukhal every night. She was supposed to be some vault dweller that got lost up on the surface. Those kind didn't last. He chose not to think too much into it. If it wasn't with chems, it'd be some raiders or some yao guai that finished her off. Or just dehydration.

His employer continued to whisper to her, leaning forward in an interest he knew was far from pure. 1. 2. 3. 4... whenever he started getting especially aggravated he mentally counted. Not to ten, but indefinitely until he forgot what had triggered him. He made it to 593 when she spun around in her bar stool, a strange smile directed at him. This made him freeze. She was looking at him with a smug pride he didn't know what to make of.

He'd hear on the radio about some of her exploits. She rescued an orphan from Deathclaws. Killed a Behemoth and fixed Three Dog's antenna. There was talk of her freeing slaves in Paradise Falls. But Charon didn't like getting hopeful. He was numb to the disappointment.

She walked toward him with a sheet of paper in her hands. It was worn and folded, the familiar brown paper his everything. He already knew, as Azrukahl greedily collected the mountain of bottle caps on his counter and as she made her way to his corner, that he was finally free. Free of Azrukahl. Free of being chained to that chem dealing fiend. He was finally free of his worst employer.

"Hi! Guess what? I bought your contract."

"This is good to know. Wait here. There is something I must do, first." She didn't order him to stop, which he took as permission. He marched to Azrukahl, the buzz of endorphins and serotonin like ecstasy as he sauntered over to very man that was the poison of Underworld. He had dreamed of this day. He wasn't sure if this wasn't a dream, too. But he'd savor it. He'd bask in it. He could feel her watching him. He wanted her, to. So she would learn from another's mistakes. "Azrukahl."

"Come to say goodbye?" He hardly looked interested. For over 60 years he slaved for this man. He had killed and beaten and done worse in the name of his employer. And all of that was so easily dismissed with a couple thousand caps.

"Yes."

He didn't care to be slow. He only wanted to be precise. He pulled his shotgun and aimed at Azrukahl's forehead. He pulled the trigger.

The familiar explosion sounded like running water and the white sound of cool ventilation. Peace washed over him. For good measure, and in an effort to continue the pleasure he felt, he fired again, this time at the bloody corpse at his feet. The smell of gunpowder and blood was like prewar perfume.

He heard her footsteps behind him. He swung around and put his weapon away. "Okay. Let's go."

She looked paler, looking down at the gory mess of brains and cartilage. He wondered what she was thinking. Her hesitation was expected, though he didn't expect what was next. She looked back at him and nodded. "Let's go." And asked for no explanation.

She's trying to appear tough, he reasoned. Or maybe she's in shock. He didn't bother to figure her out. He had a feeling he'd have plenty of time to get to know his new employer.


	3. Chapter 3

She wasn't much of a talker.

He had expected her to ramble and chatter away. All new employers usually liked to talk about themselves. Instead, she seemed to just look around a lot. She seemed timid but curious. The only time he heard her voice was when she would ask a question.

"How did they build bridges that tall?" She'd point at the old interstate ramps high above their heads.

"Lots of heavy equipment and cement." He'd answer obediently, waiting for her to give him direct orders.

"Were mirelurks always this large? Even before the great war?" She'd squat over the shell of an already salvaged mirelurk corpse, her hands feeling the rough shell as she studied the creature.

"No. They're mutations from prewar crabs."

Every time he answered she'd frown as though thinking his words over. She didn't make an acknowledgement or express agreement or disagreement. It was as though she believed everything he told her as fact. Or maybe she didn't know what a crab was.

It made him worry, traveling with such an ignorant person out in the wasteland. She didn't seem to have any experience in combat. She wore her leather armor and had her chinese assault rifle strapped to her back, sure. But she seemed to trip over debris and lacked the grace that most wastelanders had. She walked ahead of him, completely trusting he wouldn't shoot her in the back.

Not that he would, with her holding his contract.

He wasn't sure where she kept it, which worried him. He liked to know where it was at all times. Somewhere in her bulging backpack was his lifeline. Without it, he was nothing.

They were by large piles of rock and cliffs. A small cavern that only reached a few feet into the rock face offered shelter from the heat. The sun was setting in the distance, behind the lone skyscraper on the horizon. She stopped at the edge of a steep drop, letting her pack and rifle fall to the ground. He winced at how carelessly she left it while she pawed deep in her bag in search of something.

Charon turned around to make sure they were safe. No hostiles around. Nothing seemed to be out there. But he hated being a sitting duck out in the open like this. Especially when he was sure that was Tenpenny Tower off in the distance.

He took his pack off too, his back muscles thanking him for the relief. He had been crammed in that corner for so long... his body wasn't use to the effort. Even those weekly "recon" missions Azrukhal sent him hadn't kept him in his prime. He didn't dare express discomfort but he was relieved to at least stop for a moment. A gentle breeze blew past, cooling him as he kept vigilant watch all around. Their position was in an advantage for height and position. They'd see anyone approach for miles.

He raised an eyebrow when he saw her pull out binoculars from her bag and look through them. She was scanning the horizon, trying to get more details on the monolith. As she looked through them she squatted real quick, as if that would help hide her from whatever she just saw.

"Charon. There's ghouls over there." She pointed off to the side, in the distance away from the setting sun. There was an old train yard. He could only make out slight little dots moving, which he assumed were them. "I think they're feral."

He kept his mouth shut.

"I don't want to kill them unless they try to kill me. Do you think we should stay here? Or would they be able to detect me?" She lowered her scopes and looked up at him. "I know they don't attack other ghouls first."

"It is up to you."

She bit her lip, troubled. She looked around, her eyes landing at the boulders further away from the cliff edge. "We'll make camp tonight. I'm not much of a fighter. But I'd like to study the ghouls some more."

Charon paused at this, her words confusing him. "Study them?" He was incredulous, looking down at her as she shuffled around him. She had gathered her things and was carrying them with an "oof" toward the large rocks and small shelter, placing her belongings out of sight.

"Yes. The ghoul condition is something of a scientific anomaly. I'm trying to learn more about them." She lifted her sunglasses, wincing at the still bright light. "Sorry. Does that make you uncomfortable?"

He continued to stare at her. His mind was buzzing. "Why are we out here?"

She blinked and laughed. "Research."

"You're a scientist." He didn't hide the incredulous tone in his voice. She laughed again. She was hardly eighteen years old.

"I like to think I am." She pulled her shades back over her eyes and began unbuckling the straps to her torso. "I used to help my father back in the vault. He was the head doctor of the vault." She stopped and looked at him inquisitively. "Come on, help me set camp. Can you start a fire?" She got to her feet and began scanning the ground for something to burn.

"Yes. Can't you?"

"No." She looked over her shoulder and sighed. "It's pretty obvious I don't know a lot about this world. That's one of the reasons I purchased your contract. I want you to teach me to survive out here." She muttered under her breath. "As well as other things."

"Like what?" He tossed his pack toward the boulders and stretched his back. His spine exploded in an orchestra of pops.

She hummed to herself, ignoring the question. He frowned at this, standing and waiting for an order. He didn't like her. He had decided that. _Typical Smoothskins. I'm just a survivalist lab rat to her._ What else was new?

"Charon, I'm not going to experiment on you, okay?" She leaned her back against the rocks, the desire for a fire seemed to have lost its appeal. She had taken the heavy dark armored jacket off, revealing a sweaty tank top underneath. Where the armor covered her, she was ghostly pale, which was something Charon couldn't help but gawk at. He couldn't remember the last time he saw a woman so light skinned (or with all her skin, for that matter).

She didn't seem to mind his staring. She took her shades off, the sun fully set and the night making its approach. Digging her bag for her canteen she took healthy gulps and handed the rest to him.

He decided to take the invitation.

He sat with his back to the taller rocks so he could keep his eye on any approaching danger. He gulped the water, surprised it was pure. He stopped as soon as he tasted it, looking at her incredulously. "This is purified."

"Yeah, tastes good?" She sighed again, her eyes closed. She looked like she was about to fall asleep. "Don't worry, I have more."

He closed the canteen and pushed it against her arm. "I can drink irradiated water, instead."

Her eyes fluttered open, revealing light silver eyes. She had an intense gaze. "Sorry, I thought I was being polite." She dug into her pack and handed a dusty bottle, sealed but cloudy. As she handed it to him, she added, "I apologize in advance for anything I do that may offend you."

He scoffed, not believing her. He took the bottle and downed it, his chest burning with the familiar warmth of ionizing radiation. Or maybe it was because it had been out in the sun all day. "A little ironic, coming from someone who wants to cut me open like I'm a freak of nature."

She was silent after that. She looked to the side, not meeting his glare. "I probably can't convince you but hear me out. I want to learn about ghouls. I want to understand them. Maybe I can cure them. And I won't start cutting you up or anything like that! I don't want to do anything harmful to you. I read the contract. If I physically hurt you, you can... choose new employment. I don't want to end up like Azrukhal. But I trust you as much as you trust me."

"That's smart." Charon smirked, still skeptical. "Cure Ghoulification? That's impossible. And how can you, some kid from the vault, possibly do that?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I'll have you know that I'm a licensed surgeon. I have a scientific background. My whole life I've been groomed in this field."

He laughed. "Where, at the Medical Institute of Vault Tech? Give me a break."

She folded her arms and sulked, clearly pissed. "Yes."

He laughed, mockingly. It was the funniest thing he had heard in a very long time. It felt good, being allowed to laugh. It was surprisingly hard on the chest and back muscles. He hadn't laughed like that in decades.

She, though, wasn't amused. "Fuck yourself." She grabbed her bag and dragged them off several meters away from him.

He kept laughing at her. "Is that an order?"

She stuck her middle finger at him, a gesture he was impressed she knew of. She used her bag as a pillow and rolled over to turn her back to him, her arms crossed and her legs curled to her chest.


	4. Chapter 4

She felt cold. Shivering, she tried to curl deeper into a sweetroll tight ball but the night air had dropped several celcius. She swore she could see her breath in the dim moonlight. She heard a few cracks in the distance, like gunshots or rocks falling from somewhere. It kept her awake and her nerves short circuited.

She looked at her pipboy, the light blinding at first. She went through all her stats and began short handing quick notes into her log.

 _Charon took the news as well as I would expect. He clearly doesn't trust me. I would let him go, but I'm afraid he'll kill me. I thought I was doing him a favor, buying him from Azrukhal. I think I still did, but he's not a very talkative person. I can't read him. I think he has a strong dislike for non-ghouls. I can't say I blame him. I got emotional and told him I wanted to find a cure for his condition. He laughed at me. I know it's far fetched but I doubt anyone out here has actually tried. This environment is so hostile. There's no time to pursue anything academically. It's survive, rape, kill, eat, fuck, survive. At least I'm safer with Charon and his contract. Even though I'm stuck as his employer, it's going to keep me safe. He seems very experienced in this environment._

She stopped journaling to quietly sit up. She looked over to the shadow heap sitting up. She saw his head lift and look directly at her. "Trouble, smoothskin?"

"No." She checked the time. "Maybe I can find some wood or something to burn."

He snorted, shrugging. This sparked more resentment. She was growing to strongly dislike him. "Well... whatever. You can just go to sleep. I'll take the rest of the night."

He sneered, "Gonna fight off the big bad raiders all by yourself, smoothskin?"

She wasn't in the mood for any more of his bullshit. "Please. Just shut up. I order you go to sleep. I'll stand watch. If you're not going to help, then leave me alone."

She sat up, shivering and trying to keep the tears from flowing. This guy reminded her of Butch. Just an asshole, trying to push her down and keep her down. She got to her feet and folded her arms, wanting to talk to her Dad more than anything at that moment. She felt like she was drowning in a cold river of loneliness.

"Hey."

She turned to him as he got to his feet, only his pale eyes just barely visible as tiny glints. "What?" A part of her was fearful. He was so much taller than her.

"If you can find something to burn, I'll teach you how to build a fire." He looked around. "You have a lighter or match?"

"No."

He chuckled. "Good. That'll just make you lazy. I'll show you how to make a real fire."

She admired how quickly he rubbed his hands together over the notch and tinder nest. He quickly rubbed the stick in his hand as he moved his arms down. He had created a makeshift campfire out of what they could salvage. They managed to find the driest remnants of a few brittle trees, some blank pages at the back of a prewar book, and with vodka sprinkled onto their little tinder nest the plumes of smoke grew quickly to thick flames. It wouldn't last all night, but it was better than nothing.

"Normally, I wouldn't have an open fire. It attracts too much trouble. But feral ghouls aren't going to come here just because of a light in the distant. They just want to be left alone, really. Be with their own kind." He looked off at the direction of the great building. "Though if anyone's in there, we may have some problems."

She put her hands over the heat and sighed in pleasure. "Thank you. Next time, let me try."

"Sure. But it won't be easy. I'm not going to let you cheat with the alcohol. There will be times you don't have something like that." He didn't seem to care for the fire, leaning away from it. He watched her. "You've been crying."

She wiped her cheeks, insecure. She was surprised he noticed. "No, I haven't." Her heart beat fast as she shamefully lied.

"Very well." Charon continued to watch her, his face especially terrifying in the flickering light. "What do you know about ghouls?"

"Only what Dr. Barrows has told me and what little I've observed so far. He explained some people exposed to extreme levels of radiation may undergo an extreme mutation that allows them to adapt to this environment. They can heal cuts, bruises, even broken bones from radioactive sources. But their skin begins to deteriorate. Their hair falls out. Soft tissue and ligaments can also begin to fall from their bodies. It seems to correlate with muscle density. The more active a ghoul is, the less likely he'll start falling apart. They can no longer reproduce. But also, the aging process is halted." She looked down at her Pipboy, alternating pages on the screen. "I've spoken to some prewar ghouls like Carol and Winthrop. They were alive before the Great War and still remember it clearly." She trailed off, tired of rambling.

"You know enough." Charon was mildly impressed how much she knew. The healing part was often one fact most smoothskins rarely knew about them. Those that did only resented them even more for that benefit.

"I disagree." She rubbed her arms and shivered. "There's so much we can learn from ghouls. If we understood the mutation better it would do a lot of good. Maybe future generations can somehow inherit the benefits of being a ghoul. Or maybe we can somehow reverse the negative side effects. I won't know until I either find more people that have studied ghouls or start myself."

She focused on him and his reaction. His shoulders were shaking with stifled laughter. He looked more amused and less hostile at that moment. It helped calm her down. She'd happily take being a joke to him than a threat any day. Charon smirked at her, the smile making her feel like a little kid again. "So what's the first step, ma'am?"


End file.
